The mortal Acis loves the sea-nymph Galatea, but is murdered in a jealous rage by the Cyclops Polyphemus. Miraculously transformed into a river, Acis is finally reunited with Galatea in eternity. The familiar myth gets a distinctly French treatment in Lully’s compact, three-act pastorale héroïque. Flirtation and seduction are as important as love, with not only an extended courtship for our central lovers but also a sparring subplot for never-going-to-happen lovers Telemus and Scylla. The tone is light, until the monumental final passacaille opens a pastoral out to potential tragedy and new stature.

Benjamin Lazar’s staging for Florence’s Maggio Musicale is a light-touch, low-budget affair. The framing narrative nods to the opera’s origins as a private commission for the Duc de Vendôme to honour the visiting dauphin. A group of friends set up a contemporary déjeuner sur l’herbe in a forest – trestle tables, wine bottles and flowers – crowning one of their number king before staging a homespun entertainment. Paintings supply a makeshift set of backdrops for this tableau vivant in which jeans and T‑shirts are gradually covered by robes and crowns.

Conductor Federico Maria Sardelli (wielding an authentically Lullian staff for certain movements) propels a crisp account – the festival orchestra’s first with period instruments. The many dances show off a wonderful variety of instrumental colours, and it’s hard not to wish for slightly more polished onstage movement to accompany them, for the frame to dissolve completely for the finale and allow us to lose ourselves in the drama.

Soprano Elena Harsányi is a piquant, elusive Galatée. Frostier than her Handelian counterpart, she melts only in her fleeting dialogue with Acis and her ravishing post-wedding air en chaconne. Jean-François Lombard’s light-voiced Acis is a rather fey lover, less compelling than Sebastian Monti’s virile, brilliant Télème, duelling vividly with Valeria La Grotta’s Scylla. A charismatic presence despite a face covered by a mask, Luigi De Donato cuts through all the courtly love with booming authority, pulling off the tricky balance of threat and sympathy.

This is the only DVD currently available of Lully’s last completed stage work, and while it doesn’t come close musically to displacing the superb recordings by either Les Musiciens du Louvre (Archiv, A/98) or, best of all, Les Talens Lyriques (Aparté, 11/22), it remains a valuable reference.